Water Shortage
by hevaann
Summary: Dean is going to hell, and if things aren't bad enough, there is a shortage of hot water...


**Set During: (Season 3)**

_As my last 'shower scene' was quite popular (__**For The Sake Of Some Hot Water**__), I thought I would treat you to another one; just a less angsty/smutty version. _

_Supernatural is not mine. I do however own a shower. I have not yet managed to convince Sam and Dean to use it..._

As crummy motels went, this was probably the worst one they had been in. At least since the last one anyway.

They had just travelled sixteen hours in the scorching heat, and not only were their shapes now imbedded in Dean's beloved Impala, but they were also wearing their clothing like a second skin.

"Shower's mine!" Sam yelled, launching himself across the room, but failing to get there in time to stop Dean from blocking the door.

"Dude, there is not enough hot water; hell, probably enough water _period_, for you to have one of your infamous showers."

"What do you suggest we do then?" Sam asked, displaying one of Dean's least favourite 'bitch faces'.

Dean shrugged, "Share?"

"You are so disgusting." Sam said, screwing up his face and turning away.

Dean flung his arms in the air, or at least attempted to; the sticky material around them was kind of restricting. Annoyance flashing across his face, he rolled his shoulders to loosen his t-shirt and tried again.

"My days are numbered, and you're worrying about sharing a shower?"

Ignoring Sam's pointed silence he shrugged and walked into the bathroom, leaving the door open as he began to strip. It was a tricky process, all things considering.

"Dean," Sam began, levelly, "_Brothers _do not share showers, at least not at our age." He amended. "People would get ideas, not that I was planning in telling anyone, but man; aren't we weird enough already, I mean without the whole-"

Dean cut him off, "Will you quit with all your psychobabble and just get in here already?" He turned on the shower. The sound of the running water was too good to resist, and peeling the shirt from his back, Sam stepped into the bathroom and closed the door.

Closing his eyes tightly to avoid anything that might scar him for life, Sam felt his way across the room to the cubicle; catching his bare toe on a cracked tile and cursing loudly. In the shower Dean just rolled his eyes and ran his fingers through the short strands of his hair.

"Pass the shampoo will you?" He asked over his shoulder, gratefully receiving the bottle from his little brother.

"Dude!" Dean exclaimed, "You're still wearing your boxers!"

"Please don't tell me you're complaining." Sam threatened, trying to reach round him for the soap. In retaliation to being squashed up against the cold wall, Dean squirted shampoo into Sam's face.

""You – you complete j-jerk!" Sam spluttered, trying to spit the foul taste from his mouth and blinking his eyes. The latter proved to be a mistake when he squealed with the pain.

"Dude, you squealed."

"I did not!" Sam snapped, contrary to all the evidence, trying to rub the horrible liquid from beneath his eye-lids.

"You idjit, come here." Dean turned himself round, with difficulty in the small space, and angled Sam's head under the stream of water, holding it firmly in place when his brother tried to squirm away. Eventually the last of the shampoo hit the floor and Sam was able to blink painlessly.

Dean smiled at Sam, with obvious pity, as he double checked the raw whites of the younger man's eyes.

"Why do I always have to get you out of these situations?"

"Because you always dump me in them."

Dean swept his thumb down from beneath Sam's eye and across his high cheeks, finally cupping his palm at the back of his warm wet neck.

"Please don't look at me like that." Sam whispered as Dean ran his tongue over his lips. "Let me go." He added, more forcefully.

"You can walk out any point you want." Dean responded evenly, never leaving Sam's eyes.

Suddenly all the banter was gone, the jokes, the games. Two memories had drifted back to when two high school brothers had limped bloody into the bathroom of a cheap motel a long time ago. Where Dean had stripped the clothes from Sam's back and shoved him in a shower to get his cleaned up before Dad came home; before he realised that he had let his little brother get hurt. Two sets of hands had scrubbed at the blood and fawned at the wounds. Until two sets of hands had become two sets of lips and Sam had been kissed for the very first time, in a cold shower, covered in monster blood, by his own brother. And then Dad had entered the motel and that had been the end of it.

Two sets of eyes remembered it now, two bodies fought minds for dominance of reaction, and on impulse, Dean leant up to plant a kiss on his little brother's eyelids, one after the other; healing, soothing.

Sam fluttered his eyes closed for a second and then snapped them open, roughly pulling Dean's hand from the back of his neck and shoving him away as he rapidly escaped from the room. The last thing he heard was Dean punching his fist into the wall.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Sam looked up from where he was sitting on the bed as Dean walked back into the room some minutes later. In the absence of clean clothes, he was trying to look modest in a towel.

"You're bleeding." Sam pointed out, glancing briefly at Dean's knuckles and then back to the floor.

"What's new?" Dean responded, rhetorically, moving over to his bag as pulling on a pair of slacks beneath his towel, then using the soft material to cradle his bleeding hand.

"You should hold it in the air to stop the bleeding." Sam suggested, removing himself from his position on the bed to hold up Dean's arm.

"You don't have to stand that close." Dean said, gruffly.

"Yeah well you were always hopeless at taking advice – I figured it might actually happen this way."

Dean smirked, and lifted his free hand to place his palm flat against Sam's chest.

"This is the point where you freak out." He prompted, waiting for Sam's reaction.

"You're going to hell Dude, you said so yourself. I don't suppose it, _this_, matters now."

"So I'm a last resort – a pity fuck?" Dean tried to pull away, but Sam increased the pressure on his brother's wrist and hoisted him up against him.

"You were my first kiss." He moved his face down to ghost over Dean's lips, "I guess I can be your last." And finally closing the gap, he placed a soft kiss to the other's mouth, before breaking slightly to angle his head and part his lips to bring them down again. Dean looped his free hand behind Sam's head and into his damp hair, pulling him gently closer, sliding his tongue out to taste his little brother's skin, to dance across his teeth.

Torso to torso they lowered themselves onto the nearest bed and continued the kiss; every inch of bare skin creeping nearer to the other, blushing at the contact and growing warm at the touch.

Two mouths, two hearts, two souls, continued the kiss that had started about a decade before. The kiss to end all kisses. A kiss that might be good enough to save a man from hell.


End file.
